


The Raven and the Wolf: A Winter's Tale

by lexwing



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Christmas, Family Feels, Gen, Loss of Parent(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23383792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexwing/pseuds/lexwing
Summary: The Raven and the Wolf: A Winter's TaleIt’s the first Christmas after Sarah Black’s death, and eight-year-old Jacob is having trouble coping with the loss.  But an old Quilute legend helps him see the bigger meaning of the holiday.





	The Raven and the Wolf: A Winter's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> 2020: originally posted on Twlighted.net. Winner of its "A Canon Christmas" competition. This was written years ago: although I had this beta read at the time, I apologize in advance for any cultural insentivity it may inadvertantly display.  
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.

It was so cold out that it made my eyes sting.

But I didn't stop until I was deep into the trees surrounding our cabin. Finally I slowed, listening closely for the sounds of my sisters chasing after me. 

There was a light coating of icy snow on the ground. I would be able to hear it crunching if anyone approached me. But the woods were silent.

With a pleased grin I sat down on a fallen log and pulled my hood up to help keep me warm. 

In my hands was the pretty wooden box I had swiped from the top of my parents' dresser. My sisters had been in the kitchen, cooking, and hadn't seen a thing.

I pulled off my thick mittens and ran my fingers over the carvings on the top. My dad had made the box for my mom before they'd been married. It wasn't much bigger than a stack of playing cards, but there was an intricate carving of a thunderbird on the lid and carved flowers all around the sides. 

I was eight years old now, and I knew that stealing was wrong. But I wasn't stealing it, honest. I was just borrowing it for a while. Borrowing was OK. 

I figured Santa Claus would know the difference.

I had overheard Dad talking to Harry Clearwater the night before. He's said that he was going to give Mom's jewelry to my sisters, Rebecca and Rachel, for Christmas.

I wasn't ready for that. It would mean Mom really was gone forever. 

So I'd decided I needed to stash it somewhere else, just until the holidays were over.

Now that I had it, though, I couldn't resist. Carefully, carefully I opened the box.

Inside was my mother's jewelry, just as I remembered it. Her silver bracelets, the ones that had jingled together like music whenever she had worn them. The turquoise earrings one of her cousins had sent all the way from New Mexico. Her watch was still ticking away. There were also a couple of different rings: one had a blue stone, one had a red. Her wedding ring wasn't there, though-my dad now wore it around his neck.

The box's lining still smelled faintly of my mom's perfume. I put it under my nose and took a deep breath. 

Roses and lilacs. Spring had been my mom's favorite time of year. She had always smelled like spring. 

But it was winter now, the day before Christmas. And my mom was buried in the reservation cemetery. She'd been gone almost a whole year.

I really missed her.

"Jacob?" My sister Rachel's voice rang out over the trees. "Where are you? Come and help us with dinner!"

I jumped up and quickly looked around for a place to hide the box. I settled for tucking it inside a nearby hollow log.

I tried to look casual as I walked back down to the house, but my heart was thumping hard in my chest. I opened the creaky screen door and went inside.

Our house was small but cozy. The living room was almost entirely filled by a couch and a table and chairs. On one side three doors led to two tiny bedrooms and one bathroom. On the other side was the kitchen. That was it. But it was a palace compared to some of my friend's places.

It was warm inside and smelled like burned food. My sisters hadn't gotten the hang of cooking yet. I could hear them quarreling in the kitchen.

I went over to the lopsided pine tree crammed in the corner of the living room. My dad had cut it down himself. It was taller than he was. 

My sisters had strung popcorn and cranberries on thread to decorate it. Together we'd carefully unwrapped all the family ornaments, including the ones each of us had made in school. My mom had carefully saved all of them, rewrapping each in tissue paper before putting it away for the year.

This year my third grade class had made angels out of popsicle sticks. Mine was hanging on the tree now. But it wasn't the same.

There weren't any presents under the tree yet. But I was still hoping Santa would come through.

"Jacob?" 

My oldest sister, Rebecca, stood in the doorway. Her long black hair had been carefully coiled in a bun on the back of her head, and she was wearing our mother's apron. 

"Yeah?"

"Stay away from that tree," she scolded. "You'll make a mess."

Rebecca was only fifteen, but since Mom had died she'd gotten really bossy. She said she was now in charge of the house.

"Rebecca!" My next sister, thirteen-year-old Rachel, came into the room, a spoon still in hand. "The gravy doesn't look right. It's all lumpy."

"I said you had to keep stirring it!" Rebecca pushed past her, back into the kitchen.

"What burned?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.

"The chicken. Do you think Dad will mind?"

"Nah. Dad eats anything." I stared at the tree for a long moment. "Rach, do you think Santa will bring us anything this year?"

Rachel looked serious. "Look, Jake, you know Dad has been struggling all year to pay off Mom's medical bills."

I looked at my feet. "Yeah." 

"So maybe we can't have a big Christmas this year. But let's try and make things happy for Dad anyway, OK?"

"The gravy's ruined!" Rebecca wailed from the kitchen. "Mom always made this look so easy!"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'll go help her," she told me. "Set the table, OK? And set an extra place-Charlie is coming over."

My heart stopped for a moment. 

"Sheriff Charlie?" I asked. He'd been Deputy Charlie until just a few months ago.

"Yeah, Dad invited him for Christmas Eve." She frowned. "What's the big deal? He's one of Dad's best friends. Bella's mom didn't send her this year so he's all alone."

"OK," I squeaked. Oh, man, what if Charlie found out what I'd done? He'd take me off to jail, and then I'd miss Christmas! 

I took extra care setting the table, hoping that nobody would notice how nervous I was. 

Rachel helped me pull the table out of its usual corner, so there would be room for Charlie, too. It had to sit in the middle of the room. We got the plates, cups, and silverware out, and put a napkin at each place setting. A ceramic tree Rachel had made in her art class was the centerpiece.

I was filling each water glass when I heard my dad's truck pull up outside. I went to the front window and watched as Charlie Swann's cruiser pulled in right next to him.

I almost dropped the pitcher. Instead I rushed back into the kitchen.

"They're here!" I called.

Rebecca's face was bright red from the heat of the oven and her bun was now lopsided. She looked ready to cry.

Rachel patted her back soothingly. "It all looks good, sis. You did fine."

I glanced at the partially carbonized chicken in its roasting pan, and at the lumpy gravy congealing on top of the stove.

"Maybe we could order a pizza," I suggested as the front door opened and closed.

Rebecca let out a wail.

"Get out of here, Jake!" Rachel grabbed a towel and snapped it at me. "Go tell Dad and Charlie to get washed up."

"OK." I took a deep breath and went into the living room. There were a couple of pink bakery boxes on the table that hadn't been there before.

My dad looked tired, but he grinned widely when he saw me. He was still in his heavy overalls and parka. His beat-up old work boots had tracked bits of ice into the house.

"Hey, Dad. How was work?" 

"Same old, same old," he chuckled. "But the smell of the pine boards did make things kinda festive." Dad worked at the lumber mill up in Forks.

Reluctantly I looked up at the sheriff. He wasn't as burly as my dad, but he was still a big guy. 

"Hi, Charlie. Rachel said to tell you guys to get cleaned up for supper."

Charlie Swann smiled down at me. He was younger than my dad, and his brown hair curled like a little boy's. But his uniform and the gun on his hip let you know he meant business. 

"Charlie, you can hang up your jacket and your gun by the door," my dad counseled. "I'm going to go get changed." 

He headed for my room. Until about a year ago it had belonged to my parents, and I had shared a room with my sisters. But then my mom and dad had decided my sisters needed their own space.

I now slept in what had been their room and Dad slept on the couch. His dresser and all his clothes were still in my room, though.

As he went through the door I bit my lip, waiting for an explosion when he saw the box was missing. But all I could hear was my dad opening and closing the closet.

Charlie shucked off his jacket and went into the kitchen to wash his hands.

"Everything smells great," I could hear him telling Rebecca and Rachel. "I hope you girls don't mind, but Billy asked me to bring a couple of pies from the diner for dessert. Least I could do after you were kind enough to invite me."

This cheered me a bit. At least there would be pie.

We sat around the dinner table nearly elbow-to-elbow and passed the serving bowls and plates. Dad smiled cheerfully as he struggled to carve the overcooked chicken. To my relief, and probably Charlie's, too, he immediately helped himself to the biggest piece.

"Always did like my chicken well done," he said.

Rebecca beamed at him.

The mashed potatoes and stuffing had come out of a box, and the green beans had been frozen. The gravy had hardened into a solid lump and could not be poured out of the gravy boat. But everyone was still careful to compliment the girls on everything. Dad and Charlie even had extra helpings. 

I picked at the food on my plate. I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe Dad had been too busy changing to notice the box was gone? Maybe he would never notice?

But my stomach kept doing flip-flops. I couldn't even finish my slice of apple pie.

And I loved apple pie.

\---

Charlie stayed late that evening. 

He and Dad had offered to do the dishes, but the girls wouldn't hear of it. Instead the "men" (which I guess included me) were told to stay in the living room. 

Dad and Charlie pushed the table back into its corner and found an old western on TV. They relaxed on the couch, each with a can of Rainer beer in his hand.

When they had finished their cleaning my sisters joined us, sprawling on the old shag carpeting.

I peeked out the window again. It was full dark now, and getting colder by the minute. I thought of the box, hidden out in the woods.

My breath condensed on the glass. I drew little stick figures in it. 

"Whoa, will you look at the time?" My father finally said. "It's almost nine-thirty. Time for little boys to be in bed."

Normally I objected to being sent to bed before everyone else, but now I just wanted this evening to be over.

Charlie stood up. "I'd better be going, too. I'm taking the morning shift tomorrow, and I have to be in bright and early."

Rachel looked up from her teen magazine. "You have to work Christmas Day? That stinks."

"Both my deputies wanted to stay home with their families. So..." Charlie shrugged his shoulders. He looked sad. He must have been missing his little girl.

"That was very nice of you," Rebecca said quickly.

"Son, you go get into your pjs," Dad said. "I'll walk you out," he told Charlie.

I brushed my teeth and washed my face in the small bathroom that nearly overflowed with my sisters' beauty supplies. In my own room I changed into my pajamas and crawled under the covers. 

The heat in our house didn't work very well, and it was always a little too cold in my room. I was glad to have the heavy wool blankets on top of me.

A few minutes passed. I could hear the door of Charlie's cruiser slamming shut, and his tires on the gravel driveway.

I was finally able to take a deep breath.

Dad came into my room and closed the door. He sat down on the edge of my bed. 

I pulled my covers up under my chin.

"I noticed you didn't eat much at dinner," he said.

"Yeah, I, uh, wasn't really hungry." 

"That's too bad." He grinned at me. "How about a story, son?"

"A Christmas story? ‘Cause Teacher already read us _‘Twas the Night Before Christmas_ in class. It's really lame. Quil said that any kid who would eat something called a sugar plum is a total geek."

"No, this is a Quileute story. It takes place before there _was_ a Christmas. Your great-grandpa Ephraim told it to me when I was your age."

I relaxed a bit. "He did, huh? OK, then." Great-grandpa's stories were always good ones.

"Many years ago," my father began, "on a winter's evening, just like this one, Wolf was carrying a gift home for his cubs. It was a shining star, given to him by Q'wati. You remember who he is, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. He created our tribe. Duh."

"Right. Well, Q'wati had pulled down a star from the winter sky to give to Wolf's children. And Wolf was carrying it home when..."

"How can Wolf carry a star?" I interrupted. "He doesn't have hands."

"It was in his mouth, same way mother wolves carry their cubs," Dad said smoothly.

"Oh."

"Wolf was carrying it home when suddenly Raven swept down and landed on a branch over Wolf's head. Raven used his beak to push a pile of snow off the branch and onto Wolf's head. That startled Wolf so much that he dropped the star. Quick as a wink, Raven swept down and carried it off in his talons."

"Raven is _so_ rude." I laughed and folded my hands under my head. Raven was always the troublemaker in my great-grandfather's stories. I loved Raven.

"That he is," Dad agreed. "Wolf was understandably upset. After all, the star had been a gift from Q'wati. So Wolf gave chase. 

But Raven flew far over his head, laughing at Wolf from the sky.

‘Ha ha,' Raven laughed. ‘The shiny thing is mine now. And I do love shiny things!'"

"Like when that raven swept down on our BBQ last summer, and stole that bit of tin foil?" I asked.

"Exactly like that. Ravens just can't help it, I guess." He cleared his throat. "Where was I? Oh, yeah. ‘That isn't for you,' said Wolf. ‘It's for my cubs. Give it back.'

‘Q'wati should have given it to me instead,' Raven insisted. ‘It isn't fair that he gave it to you.'

‘Perhaps not,' said Wolf. ‘But stealing it isn't going to solve anything. Give it back now and I will not be angry.'

‘No,' said Raven. ‘And you can't make me.' With that Raven flew high into the dark pines, where Wolf could no longer see him.

Raven put the shining star in his nest. He hopped to one side, admiring it. Then he hopped to the other. Of all the pretty, shiny things he'd collected, this was by far his favorite.

But then Raven started to worry. He loved his shining star. But what if one of the other birds came along and tried to steal it from him? His nest wasn't a safe place. 

So Raven picked up the star in his beak and took to the air. He flew east and he flew west; he flew north and he flew south. But he couldn't find any safe place to set it down where it wouldn't be found. Exhausted, he returned to his nest.

And then something terrible happened."

My eyes widened. "What, Dad?"

"Raven discovered that he couldn't get the star out of his beak. He'd been so worried about losing it that he'd clamped down too hard on it, and now it was stuck."

I laughed.

"No, son, it was terrible." My father pretended to scold me. "Raven tried everything to get the star out of his beak, and he couldn't.

‘Oh, I shall starve now!' He thought in despair. ‘Q'wati must be punishing me!'

Miserable and certain his fate was now sealed, he dropped down to the ground.

‘Hello again, Raven,' said Wolf. ‘You've been acting very silly. I've been watching you fly to and fro. What is the matter?'

In despair, all Raven could do was shake his head, so that Wolf could see the gleaming star now trapped in his beak. Quick as a wink Wolf swiped out at him with his huge paw."

Dad paused.

"Did Wolf kill Raven?" I demanded.

"Of course not." My dad looked offended. "You know wolves never kill without good reason. All Wolf did was give Raven a good clap across the wings, so he'd cough the star right out. Which he did.

‘Oh, Wolf, thank you,' Raven gasped. ‘I might have died! Q'wati was trying to kill me for stealing your star!'

‘Nonsense,' said Wolf. ‘You got that star stuck in your beak all by yourself, and you would have figured out a way to get it out all by yourself if I hadn't come along. But next time, think harder before you take something that doesn't belong to you.'

‘I will,' Raven promised.

And so Wolf took up the star again and carried it home to his cubs, where it helped light the den through the long winter. The end."

I was quiet for a long moment. "So did Raven learn his lesson, Dad?"

He gazed at me steadily. "What do you think, Jake?"

"Well, _that_ one might have. But ravens still steal things."

"Only because they're birds, and can't help it. They don't get to think things through, like we do."

He bent down and planted a kiss on the top of my head. 

I squirmed. "Dad, geez! Not cool!"

"I know, I know, you're too big for that now," he chuckled. "Good night, son. When you wake up it will be Christmas morning."

"I know," I said softly. "Good night."

I waited until he had turned out the light and closed my bedroom door. I listened to his heavy footsteps as he got ready for bed and the squeak of the couch springs as he lay down.

When I could hear his slow and steady breathing through the thin walls I quietly got out of bed and started pulling on my coat.

\---

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright. Most of the snow on the ground had already melted.

"Merry Christmas, girls," my father said. "Merry Christmas, Jake."

"Merry Christmas, Dad," we all echoed.

Santa had come through. 

There were a couple of extra boxes that hadn't been there the night before. There were new, warm coats for all of us. Rachel and Rebecca both got some CDs, and I got a remote-controlled monster truck that I couldn't wait to show Quil.

Dad opened our present to him. "New work boots!" He said happily. "Just in time, too-my toes are just about sticking out of my old ones!" He laughed.

It was a happy morning, even without my mother there.

When all the other presents had been opened Dad reached down and picked up my mother's jewelry box. I had left it under the tree after I'd rescued it from the hollow log the night before. 

He didn't look a bit surprised to find it there.

"Rebecca, Rachel, I have something for each of you."

My sisters, still in their nightgowns, looked solemn as Dad opened the box.

"None of it is very valuable. But your mother loved each piece, and asked me to give them to you when the time was right," he said, his dark eyes shining. "And I can't think of a better time than Christmas Day.

She said the turquoise earrings and the lapis ring were to be for you, Rachel," he explained. "Because she knew how much you loved the color blue."

Rachel was too choked up to speak as he handed them to her. She just nodded.

"The garnet ring and the watch are for you, Rebecca, because Mom knew you were going places. She said you should be on time when you get there."

"Oh, Dad," Rebecca said softly, accepting her gifts.

He divided the silver bangles equally between them.

My sisters took turns admiring each other's gifts.

"And now Mom's present for Jacob."

We all looked at him in surprise.

Dad reached into his flannel shirt, and pulled out the chain he had worn for the last several months. He lifted it over his head and held it out to me.

On the end swaying ever so slightly was my mother's wedding ring.

"She wanted you to have this, son," he told me. 

I took it carefully in my hand, afraid I would drop it. It was just a plain gold band. But it was the most amazing present I'd ever gotten. Because it was from my mom.

My father held out the little wooden box. "You can keep it in here until you need it."

I couldn't speak either. I just nodded as I carefully laid the ring, chain and all, inside.

"But boys don't wear jewelry," Rachel laughed, breaking the silence. "What's he going to do with it?"

"Don't be dense," Rebecca told her. "It's for Jake to give to his wife some day."

This was more than my middle sister could resist. "Oooh, does little Jakey-wakey have a girlfriend?" 

Rachel pounced on me, wrestling me to the carpet. She started tickling me.

"No I don't-I hate girls! Get off!" I laughed breathlessly.

"Babies." Rebecca rolled her eyes in disgust. "I'm going to start breakfast, Dad."

My father quickly stood up. "Let me help you, sweetheart."

He shot me a wink as he followed her into the kitchen.

Presents _and_ an edible breakfast.

What more could a kid want?


End file.
